


First Hit

by GrayKatraz



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- Twins, Angst, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Handsome Jack & Timothy Lawrence are Twins, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-04-23 06:33:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 11,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19145503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayKatraz/pseuds/GrayKatraz
Summary: He woke staring at a white ceiling, body aching and face burning. It was a duller burn than before, but he couldn’t move anything. Only one eye could open, and even then only a crack. Whole portions of his body were numb while others felt as though they were on fire. “Wher-” He tried to speak but his voice gave out in a rasp. Slowly, he tried to move the arm that wasn’t numb, but clinking metal chimed in his ear. To the best of his ability, he looked down and saw a metal cuff chaining him to the bed guard.  He tugged on it- the sound altering others in the room of his, now, conscious state.“By the Gods-” A nurse nearby nearly dropped her clipboard, moving quickly into the hall to grab a doctor. “Mr. Lawrence is awake, sir.”





	1. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack begins the fall 
> 
> Song: Novocaine - The Unlikely Candidates / Fallin (Temptation) - grandson

All it took was one hit, given for free from some guy in accounting, and Jack was hooked. He tried just about everything else out there, and nothing else filled the gaping hole in his chest. There was nothing else like it, that liquid lightning of the Gods- Eridium.

That high would take away the pain and cause the real world to fade to black- letting Jack live in a happy, purple haze. At first, Jack would come back down tired. It was never too bad. He could deal. But the longer he used and his occasional use becoming a habit, the crashes came. It started with nosebleeds. Then the headaches came- sometimes dull and heavy, other-times sharp and blinding. Bruises bloomed in the crux of his arm, track marks and rubber band burns angry with purple, red, and blue. The tremors came next, so bad that Jack thought his brain would shake right out of his skull. Taking more would soothe the symptoms, and he would slip back into that fuzzy bliss. He couldn’t last long without it, quickly becoming desperate for more. But his friend was always there with another stash, waiting and ready for him.

Eridium dulled the pain, and made the world around him that much brighter. The big ol’ hole in his chest would be all filled up and he could go about his day without the weight of self loathing dragging him down. Sure, his habit was expensive, but it was well worth the cost. He could deal with the lows, and with the highs he rose up the corporate ladder, becoming head of his branch, only a few promotions away from CEO. But things changed when his dealer cut him off.

 _“Things are getting hot over here.”_   The echo garbled voice made Jack’s skin crawl. _“I can’t deal for you anymore. You’re too high up the chain, Jack- they’re gonna connect the dots back to me.”_

“You don’t understand.” Jack was in his office, one hand tugging at the roots of his hair while the other gripped his echo, knuckles white. “You can’t just stop- do you know who I am? ”

_“It’s not safe for me around here anymore. Hyperion’s no good- all the suppliers are pulling out.”_

“Who else? Who else am I supposed to go to?”

_“Not my problem anymore. You’re on your own.”_


	2. Icarus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack thinks he's found the solution. He couldn't be more wrong. 
> 
> Song: Icarus- Jason Webley

Small time dealers sold him bits here and there, but only enough to last him a few days. He’d run out, and the shakes would come. He needed more, and more, and eventually it all went dry. He looked everywhere. He couldn’t find what he needed. Not until he left his high profile office for darker places. Erid Houses, places long-since abandoned by its owners, now home to a menagerie of folks who all shared the same vice. Where Eridium was abundant, where it was safe to use. His own home was empty, but the memories that hung in the halls were painful and suffocating.

“What’re you doing in an Erid house, _businessman_?” A woman with brown teeth sneared. Jack tried to ignore her, bunching up his sleeve again and again to keep it out of the way. “You’re too fancy to be hanging around here.” Jack glared, his bi-colored gaze scaring the haggard woman off. With a flick of his thumb fire sparked from his lighter, heating the bowl of a tarnished spoon. His arm itched for the rush of heat in his veins. Spoon and needle slipping from his grasp, Jack relaxed into the highs’ warm embrace.

Over time, a pattern grew. Need. Find. Use. Repeat. For three years, Jack carried on in this way. He led a double life as he worked to afford his addiction. He’d work until he crashed, and then he’d go in hunt of his next fix. Medical procedures, he’d say. Family vacation, he’d lie. No one questioned where he went, no one bothered to check in. He could do as he pleased.

Jack had it all under control. He was in control of his life, finally, after so long of aimlessly floating with no direction or choice. He was happy, he was safe. Jack told himself this every day, even when he woke under an overpass with only one shoe, or found a unicorn tattoo on his rib cage he couldn’t remember wanting in the first place.

He was in control of his life. He was in control of everything- even the car.

“I’m good- I’m good, man!” Jack told his new friend. Uh… Gods, what was his name again? “Debster,” he made up, grinning.

“My name is Dennis.”

“Its Debster now.” Jack nodded to himself, silencing the other. “C’mon, let’s go get some food.” Looking out a nearby dirty, broken, window, Jack saw his car parked in the same spot it had been when he first pulled up three days before.

Jack was in control. He and his new friend were safe. Windows rolled up, hands at ten and two, grasp firm. The wheels sung along the pavement and Jack closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the hum of the engine. Music from the radio wove its away into Jack’s body, his very bones and heart beat lined up with the rhythm. Jack opened his eyes, looking out over the road. He turned his head, seeing another car next to him. He smiled and waved, before turning his attention back to the music, to Debster. He was good. He was in control. Everything was fine. Until it wasn’t.

~~~~~**~~~~~

Jack was in blinding pain. His face burned and his arms stung. What happened? He was laying down, hard cement pressing against his spine and gravel jabbing at his skin. Crap, did he get beat up again? No… No, this pain was worse than a beating. This was much worse. Hadn’t he been driving a car? Where was… Deb? Debbie? He tried to turn his head to find his missing friend but the pain doubled. He screamed, eyes tearing open only to find  _ more _ pain. One eye burst into molten agony while the other stared at a blurry, smoke filled, baby blue sky. Suddenly, there were hands on him. 

“No!” He shouted, hands trembling as he tried to shake off the assailants. They ignored him, and he was dragged somewhere with squealing sirens and bright flashing lights. The eye that had once stared up at the sky now saw dark silhouettes of strangers hovering over him. “Let- Let me go-” Jack groaned. His voice gave out as he started to cough, chest clenching painfully. Suddenly something sharp was shoved into his arm, and Jack’s world faded to black.

~~~~~**~~~~~

He woke staring at a white ceiling, body aching and face burning. It was a duller burn than before, but he couldn’t move anything. Only one eye could open, and even then only a crack. Whole portions of his body were numb while others felt as though they were on fire. “Wher-” He tried to speak but his voice gave out in a rasp. Slowly, he tried to move the arm that  _ wasn’t _ numb, but clinking metal chimed in his ear. To the best of his ability, he looked down and saw a metal cuff chaining him to the bed guard.  He tugged on it- the sound altering others in the room of his, now, conscious state. 

“By the Gods-” A nurse nearby nearly dropped her clipboard, moving quickly into the hall to grab a doctor. “Mr. Lawrence is awake, sir.” 


	3. Frontier Psychiatrist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack learns the joys of group therapy 
> 
> Song; Frontier Psychiatrist - The Avalanches

“Why don’t we go around in a circle and share a little bit about ourselves?” A round faced woman wearing a blue apron and an encouraging smile spoke. Around her, a small circle of people sitting on folding chairs. Most of those present were hunched, hidden within themselves and their center-assigned clothes. “I’ll start. My name is Marry Anne, and I love to knit.” She smiled, and nodded for the woman beside her to speak. 

“Uh… I’m Martha.” She started, clearing her scratchy throat. “I guess… I guess I like plants.” 

“Good.” Mary Anne smiled, nodding. She checked names off her clipboard as each patient spoke, but Jack couldn’t make himself care. He leaned against his chair and refused to look up from the floor. His face still stung, white bandages wrapped securely over a majority of his face- leaving Jack limited use of his right eye, nose, and mouth. 

The room fell silent, but he still refused to look up. The linoleum tiles were more interesting. Mary Anne’s smile didn’t fall as she looked down at her clipboard. Obviously, he’d need to be prompted to speak.

“John?” She asked, smiling. Jack didn’t respond. “John? Would you like to share anything?” 

“My name’s not John.” He said, voice cold as he finally looked up from the floor. His one blue eye held contempt. “Call me Jack.” 

“Oh, in our record it’s John.” Her voice was too sweet, too dismissive of his request. Jacks’ frustration began to boil. “Is there anything you’d like to share?” Jack shook his head. “Nothing? Come now, John, there has to be something special about you that you’d like to share. A simple hobby? Maybe even a favorite food.” Letting out an irritated sigh, Jack slid up from his slouched position, staring directly at Mary Anne. His body hurt, his skin stung, and his blood ran hot with a craving for what brought him here in the first place. He’d worked hard to bury that name in the past- and to have it dug up by some hack therapist? Jack didn’t have time for this crap.

“My name is Jack. A special fact about me is that I know about five different ways to blind someone with nothing but a spoon.” The room had been quite before Jack spoke, but now it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. “I suggest you call me Jack, sweetheart.” He smiled at Mary Anne as she nervously wrote a note on her clipboard. 

“My apologies, Jo- Jack… I’ll make sure we make those amends.” Jack nodded and crossed his arms. It was silent for a long while before the person to his right spoke up. 

“My… My name’s Matt, and I like anime.” 


	4. A Well Respected Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look on Jack's past. 
> 
> Song: A Well Respected Man - The Kinks
> 
> CW: Mention/Implied Rape/Non-Con

“I need those reports by 10 am, John.” Jack swallowed down the hatred in his throat, and took a deep breath. He refused to look away from his computer screen, body too tense to move. 

“Yes, sir.” He said, almost robotic as he continued to type. Spindly fingers skittered across his shoulder, and Jack clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from clacking together from nerves. 

“Oh, and John.” Those fingers tightened on the nape of his neck, sending a stab of panic down his spine. “I’d like you to deliver those reports  _personally._ ” Jack bit his tongue harshly, closing his eyes before nodding again. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you in my office within the hour.” After the haunting clicks of Mr. Tassiter’s shoes faded down the hallway, Jack felt a nervous breath come shaking passed his lips- hands trembling. He hated that man. Hated him. Jack had been hiding that name,  _John_ , for years. Trying to bury it down deep where no one would ever find it. But Mr. Tassiter… Oh, Mr. Tassiter loved to play mind games. He loved to find things that hurt people most and slowly chip away at them until there was nothing left but fear. For Jack, that meant calling him by a name the 34 year old wanted nothing to do with. The name he thought he erased.

As the clock ticked away, dragging him closer and closer to 10, anxiety crept into each corner of his mind. He didn’t want to go up to that office. He didn’t want to feel cold mahogany pressed painfully into his belly- didn’t want the awkward stains on his dress shirt or the wound to his pride. But Jack knew the consequences if he didn't go up to that office- and the damage those punishments would cause were far, far worse than the pain in his backside. 

By 11:15, Jack was back in his cubicle in the coding department, numbly typing away at his desk. He tried to shove everything down, hide the pain, and keep going. Time to turn on auto-pilot. 

 

When 5:00 rolled around he went home, body heavy. He greeted his fiancé in passing, going straight to the bathroom for a shower. The hot water stung his back and hips. 

“Let’s order in tonight.” Jack came out of the bedroom, towel in hand as he dried his now poofy hair. He smiled at the little black haired girl on the couch, kissing the crown of her head. “I’m not up for cooking or going out somewhere.” 

“Rough day?” Nisha arched her brow and looked up from her echo device. Jack gave her a tired smile.

“You could say that.” His voice was dry, and Jack swallowed uncomfortably at the rough feel in his throat. 

“Is Tassiter still riding your ass?” His insides froze up, but he couldn't let it show. “You gotta stand up to him, Jack. Just because he’s your superior doesn’t give him the right to push you around.” 

“I know.” Jack’s voice was soft, eyes downcast. 

“Just go up to him and tell him off.”

“It’s not that easy.” Jack sighed. 

“Yes it is, Jack! He doesn’t even call you by the right name. You’ve gotta stand up for yourself-”

“Dammit, Nisha! It’s not that easy.” Jack snapped, breath sharp as he stared at her. Her amber eyes stared wide at him, a frown slowly creasing her gentle features. “I can’t…” He looked behind her, seeing his daughter, no longer playing with her toy but staring at him. He let out a defeated sigh. “It’s more complicated than that.” Unable to stand there anymore, and afraid to further upset them, Jack went into the kitchen to grab a beer.

  
Just as he was about to open the chilled bottle, his echo went off. 

“Who’d be calling you this late?” Nisha asked. It wouldn’t be the office, no one there but Tassiter had his private line, and he’d already been serviced that day. 

“Tim.” Jack sighed, seeing his brother’s name flash across the screen. “Yeah?” He scratched the back of his head, bottle and opener set aside on the counter. 

 _“Can you come over?”_  Jack’s entire body language changed from slouched and tired to alert and defensive. 

“What’s wrong?”

 _“Please come over, Jack_.” Anxiety rose up into his throat, and Jack's heart thudded against its ribbed cage.

“What happened, Tim?” He glanced at Nisha before going to the front door, tugging on his shoes with one hand. “I gotta go,” He whispered, crossing the room to kiss Nishas’ forehead and ruffle his daughter’s hair. 

“ _I just- I… I need to talk to you.”_ Tim’s voice shook over the receiver and Jack felt his hackles rise. Something happened. Something bad. 

 

~~~~~**~~~~~

 

The two sat in silence for a long while, Jack beside his brother on the couch. He knew Jack was nervous from Tim picking at the hem of his shirt. Jack sat staring at his twin. He wanted to wait for Tim to talk on his own, but he knew they’d sit around all night if Jack didn’t prompt him. 

“What happened, Tim.” Jack was guarded, face blank. When he was met with silence, a frown crossed over his face. “Timothy.” Finally, Finally, Tim began to speak. 

 

His ears rang, and Jack sat staring at the carpeting of Tim’s apartment. He had no words. All he had was a soul crushing weight pressing his heart down into his stomach. His hands were shaking. Jack looked to his brother, who was crying, hiding his face behind curled, trembling fingers. As he stood, his vision went red.


	5. The Struggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the right choice is wrong. 
> 
> The Struggle - Scroobius Pip

The world was fuzzy, ringing in his ears intense. Jack coughed and reached up to touch his face, making sure he was awake and not trapped in some dream- some memory. His skin stung, and he looked down to see scratches running up and down his forearms. 

“What the...” Did he get in a fight? Jack furrowed his brow and looked around. As he stood, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of wide double doors, bookshelves and discarded propaganda posters. He knew this office. He’d been here more times than he’d like to admit. 

Jack turned, looking out over the darkened office. Why was he in here? It was after hours and Jack clearly remembered going home after work. He remembered the stinging shower. He remembered ruffling his daughters hair after a dreadful day. Jack looked down at the desk, expecting the usual display of pens and paper stacks, but instead found a state of disarray. The computer was gone, crashed to the floor, and the desk lamp was dangling by its cord off the mahogany desk. Pens and pencils were scattered everywhere and Mr. Tassiter’s nameplate askew. 

 

Wait. 

 

Where was Mr. Tassiter? 

Jack looked around the room frantically, taking a step forward to investigate the shadows. His foot hit something solid. Looking down, a shout of fear escaped him before he could muffle it by throwing a hand over his mouth. 

There, beside the desk and laying on his back, was Mr. Tassiter. His skin was white and eyes glassy, with a lense missing from his glasses. A deep bruise ringing around a neck that was definitely in the wrong angle. Mr. Tassiter was dead. Jack’s jaw hung open, staring down at the man who had used him, who had hurt him. 

Jack remembered nothing. He gulped, looking away from his abuser’s dead body, racking his brain for a single thread of memory. 

 

Crying. Someone cried. Someone  _ important  _ had been crying. 

 

Tim. 

 

~~~~~**~~~~~

 

_ “I… I didn’t want to tell you but I can’t do it anymore, Jack-”  _

_ “Just tell me what’s going on.” His voice was cold.  _

_ “Mr… Mr. Tassiter… He-” Tim’s voice was quiet, broken. “Did things.”  _

_ “Tim.” Jack’s stomach curled. “Did he-” Jack fell quiet, unable to form the words. He didn’t need to hear his twin’s reply, he knew what had been done by the way Tim shrank into the couch, shaking and crying.  _

_ “I-I’m sorry… I… I wanted to say something, but he- He said he’d h-hurt you, too.”  _

_ “I’m gonna kill him.” Jack mumbled. “I’m gonna kill that Son of a Bitch.”  _

 

~~~~~**~~~~~

 

The twins never spoke of what happened that night. Neither mentioned the odd, new patch of grass in the park, or the blisters on their palms from shoddy wooden shovels. The police had questions, but no one talked. Everyone knew Tassiter had enemies, and everyone knew it was about time that somebody did something. 

Like a forest after a fire, new life and new opportunities came with Tassiter’s demise. Jack received promotions- chances to climb the ranks and  _ become _ someone more than just a code-monkey. Yet, the wins felt empty without his brother. As soon as he could, Tim left Hyperion. He wanted nothing to do with that place, that company, and the people involved. Too many bad memories, too much pain. 

The twins never spoke of what happened that night, but the looks they shared said it all. This was a secret they would carry to their graves. 

  
At least now, no one should call him John.  


	6. The Therapist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A broken man is a lonely man. Today we find out why Jack broke. 
> 
> The Therapist - Foreign Air

"Why don't you participate?" Jack remained silent, staring at where the baseboard met the carpet, absently scratching at the red blotches on his inner arm. "Are you afraid of being judged? Trust me, Jack, no one here will judge you or your choices. We want to help you." Jack didn't acknowledge the man sitting across from him, and continued to scratch. The scabs had fallen away by now, but new layers still fought to heal. "You do know that if you keep scratching that'll get infected, right?" Jack clenched his jaw and slowly pulled his hand back against his torso, away from the crook of his arm. 

Intake had helped him through the worst of his withdrawal symptoms, but he still suffered from a laundry list of issues. Paranoia, anxiety, and severe mood swings being a few. Now that he wasn't doped up Jack was painfully aware of how much the track marks and scars on his arms itched- an itch that urged him to scratch until his arm fell off. 

"So you  _can_ hear me."  Dr. West smiled and he took down some notes on his clipboard. "We want to help you, Jack. But we can't do that if you stay quiet and unresponsive."

"What if I don't need help?" He asked, voice rough from disuse. Dr. West let out a low sigh before tapping his pen on the desk. 

"What's wrong with you, then?" Jack stiffened. "I mean, if you don't need help, why are you here?"

"That's what I've been saying. I shouldn't be here- I was fine before you people dragged me in. I'm fine." 

"Are you?" 

"Am I what?" Jack spat, finally turning to stare at Dr. West. The wrappings on his face were less intense now, but all that could really be seen was his one piercing blue eye. The rest was marred by sallow skin and sterile white bandages.  

"Are you fine?" Dr. West shifted, leaning forward in his chair. He gave Jack a calculated stare, before continuing. "You're a long term Eridium addict with severe anger issues. I don't think that matches the definition of  _fine_." He watched as Jack started to itch again. "Stop scratching, Jack." 

"It itches." The scarred man replied, voice a low whine. 

"And it'll keep itching if you don't stop scratching at it." Dr. West glanced down at his notes before trying to regain eye contact. "Why do you think you're fine?" Jack crossed his arms, right knee beginning to bounce as he frowned. 

"Out there, I was fine. I took care of myself, went to work, paid my dues." Jack nodded to himself. "I was in control." 

"Risking your health from a contaminated needle and sleeping under overpasses is taking care of yourself?" Dr. West asked, brow raised. Jack's shoulders slipped down and he sagged into his chair. 

"...No." 

"No, you're right. It isn't." Dr. West took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. "Jack, I'm going to be honest with you, alright?" He waited for a nod before picking up his clipboard. "Your behavior before you came here was erratic, dangerous and unhealthy. You could have easily overdosed and killed yourself. You could have given yourself some terminal illness." 

"But I didn't. None of that happened- I was fine on my own!" Jack frowned. Maybe he wasn't doing the  _best_ job of taking care of himself, but he wasn't an idiot. 

“You know, you’re right. You didn’t do those things.” He offered Jack a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You just starved yourself, got into a car crash, and killed three people.” Dr. West was blunt, honest- something that drove many patients into thinking he was nothing more than a prick. Yet, he got results. “My job is to help you get better. Get clean, sort yourself out. Your job, Jack, is to try. Maybe even pretend, if you have to, that you give a shit about your future.”

“What’s the point?” Jack looked up from his lap. “I’m just going to jail after I get outta here.” 

“You might get out early on good behavior- Who knows?. The point is that you’ve got a second chance to fix this.” The small office still fell silent. The two sat for a long while, Jack saying nothing while Dr. West observed him. 

“When did you first start using, Jack?” His pen was poised on his notepad, and Jack let out a quiet sigh. 

“...Three years ago.”

“Where were you when you took your first hit?” Jack swallowed hard, finding that his mouth had gone dry. He hated thinking of that night. 

“Home.” 

“Home?” Dr. West asked, hiding his surprise. “What about your family? Weren’t you worried about them finding you using?” 

“No.” Jack didn’t like to think about his family. 

“Why not?” 

“They weren’t there.” Jack shrugged, eye downcast. 

“Why weren’t they there?" Jack clenched his jaw, tension growing in his shoulders. “Why weren’t they there, Jack?” 

“Left.” His voice warbled. 

“They left? For the weekend?” For a moment, the only sound was Dr. West’s pen scratching against his notepad. 

“They left.” Jack’s gaze shot up to Dr. West’s and he stared. “They left, okay? They left. They left! They left so I took a hit.” Jack’s body language went from passive, to right down angry and defensive, voice growing into an angry bloom. But like that, in an instant, all was quiet again. Jack’s stare intense, body silent with a burning anger.

“Did they come back?” Dr. West asked cautiously. He could tell Jack was getting irritated- upset.

Jack said nothing, but continued to stare into the others eyes. He wrote down what he understood and decided that they had done enough digging for one session. Jack needed to cool down before they moved on.

“That’ll be all for today.” He nodded. “I want to see you again in two days time, alright Jack? We have a lot more to discuss.”


	7. Little One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some memories come back to bite us. Jack's flashbacks leave more than a mark. 
> 
> Little One - Highly Suspect

“Have a good evening, Mr. Lawrence.” Miss Simmons bid Jack farewell as he shut his office door, briefcase in hand and keys jingling in the other. He nodded in response, wishing her the same. After a long day of number crunching and meeting, Jack was glad to be done with the day and head home. If he knew anything, he knew his daughter would be waiting for him in the living room window, forehead pressed against the glass like always. She brought light to that house, and Jack knew deep down it would be barren without her. Nisha left two years ago, bags packed and unkind words stinging his skin like whips. Jack thanked the Gods each day that he still had his daughter- his Angel. 

“Hello?” Jack stepped into the foyer with an edge of worry. When he’d pulled up, the porch light had been turned off and front door unlocked. Angel wasn’t in the window as usual, either. Not good signs, if the knot in his gut had anything to say about it. The whole house felt cold and far too quiet. Jack swallowed hard and stepped further inside, peering into the living room. “Carrie?” He called for the nanny, thinking they’d stepped into another room for a moment. But… if they did that, why would they turn off the lights? And leave the porch light off? “Angel?” Jack called again. 

As he searched the house Jack’s anxiety only grew. The hallway empty and kitchen silent. Maybe it was some sort of game? Just to get his goat and make him worried over nothing. 

“Alright, you got me!” His voice held an edge of worry that shown through his fake laugh. After no response, he cleared his throat. “This isn’t funny anymore.” Jack called, turning towards the stairs. “You better come out.” He turned out of the kitchen to head to his daughter’s bedroom. Flicking on the light, Jack’s heart lodged itself in his throat. 

Her bedroom looked as though a tornado had blown through. The closet door was open, hangers bare and small toy chest gone. Her dresser drawers were tugged open and empty, and her small desk and vanity were picked clean. Clothes, toys, stuffed animals, Hell- even her favorite hair scrunchie was gone. Jack felt his chest grow tight, hands shaking at his sides as he frantically searched the room for any sign of his daughter. The rest of the house had been untouched- only Angel’s belongings were gone.   
Who? Who could have done this? It didn’t take long before a shiver shot down his spine and his blood ran cold. 

“No.” Jack gulped and grabbed his echo to call the nanny. It couldn’t have been. As soon as the receiver clicked on, Jack’s voice cracked. “Carrie- Where… Where are you? Did you go to the park?” He tried to keep calm, but there was no hiding the warbling of his voice. 

“ _ Oh! Mr. Lawrence. Hi. Oh, uh, I’m at home.”  _ The seventeen year old said in a chipper voice.  _ “Your girlfriend stopped by. She said I could go home since she was gonna wait with Angel for you to get back.”  _

“My girlfriend.” Jack said softly, gut turning. “My… My-” Jack’s suspicions were confirmed, but he still didn't want to believe it. He couldn't. “Did she have short black hair and a… a purple hat?” 

_ “Yeah, why? Is there something wrong Mr. Lawrence?” _ Jack hung up, his stomach dropping down to his knees. Nisha. It was Nisha. Jack’s fingers shook as he dialed Nisha’s number. He hated that he still had her as a contact- Stupid court mandates. As the line rung, Jack began to pace. It got to the fourth ring before it went to voicemail. 

“C’mon Nisha… You’re mean but not this bad.” Nausea was settling in. He’d always had hope that one day she’d come back, seeing as she was the mother of his child, but this was not what he had in mind. 

Jack must have called her five times, but it became apparent that she was deliberately ignoring him- the call being sent to voicemail on the second or third ring each time. 

“Bitch!” He screamed, throwing the device across the room. Now what? She took Angel- his daughter. That bitch stole his child. It was bad enough when she tore out his heart, but to take Angel two years later? This was a new low Jack didn’t want to believe Nisha had been capable of sinking to. Where could they have gone? He had to get her back. 

Jack picked back up his echo and called the police.


	8. Little Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When there's nothing you can do, things fall apart.  
>  
> 
> Little Hands- Mother Mother

“We’ll do everything we can, sir.” The officer spoke calmly while Jack did his best to keep a level head. Two officers had arrived to investigate the scene, and they now sat in the living room. Jack had been asked to sit on the couch, but all he could do was pace, anxiety settling nicely in his gut as the officers watched him. 

“Promise me you’ll find her.” 

“We’ll do our best, Mr. Lawrence, But…” The younger officer looked to his superior, as if seeking confirmation to share more. “You need to be prepared for the chance that she may have gone off world.” Jack’s pacing halted, and he turned to stare at the officers. 

“What?” 

“There’s a chance Ms. Kadam took your daughter off world- moved somewhere else. Other planets have different laws when it comes to custody of a child.” Jack balled his trembling hands into fists.  _ Keep it cool _ , he ordered himself, feeling raw emotions try to slip in and take over the rational part of his brain. “She most likely went to Pandora. Their custody laws differ from those on Elpis- and if she doesn’t stay there, it may become impossible to track her. Pandora has universal shuttles and offline fast travels.” 

“Custody laws? What’re you talking about- I have full custody of Angel, I went to court and got the papers and everything. I have full custody.” 

“Pandora has different rules when it comes to parental custody. The mother’s rights are first and foremost, and if she decides to cut ties with the father and take full custody, she’s able to do so without legal consultation or any court involvement.” 

“That’s bullshit.” Jack’s voice cracked. “That’s not- that doesn’t make any sense. I’m her father. You… You have to go! Get her back-” 

“Please calm down, Mr. Lawrence. That’s not how this works. We can submit a report to the Intergalactic Force of Pandora, but then it’s in their hands. We only have jurisdiction on Elpis.” 

“You have to do something. You can’t just sit by while my daughter is taken to that armpit of a planet!” 

“There’s nothing more we can do, sir.” The elder officer stood, holding out a card for Jack to take. “We suggest getting in touch with the interplanetary council to submit an appeal.” With that, the officers left. Jack felt the strength fade from his legs and he fell back into the couch, clutching the business card while his head spun. How was he going to fix this? He tried Nisha’s echo again, but it went straight to voicemail. 

The police could do nothing. Nisha was rejecting his calls. Jack was alone in an all too empty house. Closing his eyes, Jack knew he only had one person left to turn to. 

“Tim-” Jack gasped out, voice trembling. He’d had his words planned out, everything he wanted to say was organized and on the tip of his tongue, but as soon as the phone connected and he heard his brother’s voice, the words went out the window. “She’s gone… She- She took Angel. The police won’t do anything and I-I can’t get a hold of her.” Jack sat on the edge of the couch with a hand in his hair, tugging at it from the roots. He was doing everything he could to not cry, but dammit it was hard. “Tim, please… Please. I can’t- I don’t know what to do.” 

_ “Jack. Jack, slow down. _ ” Tim did his best to speak calmly. “ _ Slow down. What’s going on?” _

“Nisha. She took Angel. I was at work and she just c-came and took my baby girl.” 

_ “I’ll be right there, Jack.” _ Tim said quickly. The dial tone rung in his ears and Jack closed his eyes tightly. Unable to fight back tears anymore, Jack broke down into a sob. 

His family was gone. 


	9. Such A Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter of Jack's journey begins, and it doesn't go as he planned. 
> 
> Such A Fool- 22-20s

“After careful deliberation and consideration,” A woman wearing a dusty pink power suit stared across her big fancy desk at Jack, fingers pressed together in what Jack could only describe as a ‘power steeple’. He remembered meeting her almost five months prior to this encounter, and she was just as he remembered her. Crisp, stern, and a hardass. Margo Sweet was her name, and oh how Jack despised her. “We’ve decided to lengthen your stay here at Elpis Ridge Rehabilitation, Mr. Lawrence.” Jack swallowed down the cheesy _thank you_ speech he’d been preparing and squeezed his already knitted fingers together- knuckles quickly going white. “You have not shown optimal progress, and so we cannot in good conscience release you.” 

“But I’ve served my time-” Jack tried to interrupt, but her pointed glare cut him off. 

“According to your case file,” She lifted up a thick manila folder. “You came here by order of the state after causing a fatal vehicular accident while under the influence of a potentially lethal and illegal narcotic, resulting in the deaths of three people.” Margo looked up at Jack before continuing. “You have been sentenced to a minimum of three months rehab followed by a five year term at Triton Flats Penitentiary. And while you’ve completed your minimum sentence and an additional two months due to your poor behavior, you have violated several protocols of Elpis Ridge, Mr. Lawrence. You are aware of this, yes?” 

Jack couldn’t help but roll his eyes before giving her a fake smile. “I am aware, Margo, of the rules you and your orderlies seem obsessed with shoving down my throat.” 

“Miss Sweet,” She corrected. “And they are rules put in place to keep addicts, like you, from relapsing. It says here that you were found roaming the grounds after lights out and caught stealing from medicine cabinets multiple times. You roughed up another patient, as well.” 

“Mordecai was asking for it. He wouldn’t stop staring at me during community time and he tripped me in the day room.” 

“It doesn’t matter what Mr. Garciá did. What matters is that you gave him a black eye, knocked out several of his teeth, and maimed his comfort doll during one of your episodes.” Jack let out an irritated sigh, leaning back into his seat. “Because of this, we are going to keep you here for another thirty days and reevaluate your transfer time to Triton Flats then.” Jack clenched his jaw. 

“This is ridiculous. I’ve been clean for five months!” 

“You’ve only been clean for two of these past five months, Mr. Lawrence. You stole medications and got high after lights out.” She frowned, and Jack bit down his tongue, keeping any stupid comments he wanted to say quiet. “Another month, and we’ll reevaluate your transfer.” Margo set the folder down and folded her hands together. She nodded at the orderly posted by the door to take Jack back to the day room. “I’ll see you in thirty days, Mr. Lawrence.” 

 

~~~~~**~~~~~

 

Six months. Jack spent six months at Elpis Ridge before he was finally approved for transfer. He’d broken through his addiction, the tremors were no more and the damn cravings were carefully hidden beneath the radar, and so the Center believed Jack was fit to transfer to Triton Flats. Of course, with a clean bill of health in his file a note went along- a note warning Jack’s new handlers of his emotional instability. Fits of rage and volatile mood swings were still frequent, but given Jack’s history the Center’s warden believed that they could do no more for him- that was just how he was. 

 When he first came to the facility, Jack weighed just over a hundred pounds. He was thin, weak, and malnourished. With help from his doctors he’d managed to gain fifty pounds back. He was still scrawny in comparison to how he was when his downward spiral began three years ago, but it was an improvement nonetheless. 

Jack sat in his room, fighting back the urge to pace. Six months he’d spent in this room- six months of white walls, medication, and forced group therapy. In a few minutes, an orderly would come and collect him for the transfer to Triton Flats Penitentiary- the highest security prison on Elpis. Jack wasn’t really surprised that he’d been slated for Triton Flats, since he had both red and purple dripping from his record, but he was still bummed out. In Elpis Ridge, Jack had drawn strength from the few times he’d been visited. It was through those meetings that he saw glimpses of the outside world. There would be no visits in Triton Flats. Lower level prisoners, sure, they could have visits as often as once a week. For Jack? Someone charged with possession of an illicit substance and three counts of vehicular manslaughter? No chance. 

Jack thought on the last visit he’d had. Tim cried, as usual, and Wilhelm sat staring at Jack with his regular stone-still face and eyes filled with pity and anger. Jack had grown used to that stare. He’d never get used to Tim’s crying, though. Even if he saw Tim cry every day, Jack would never shake the ache of seeing his twin in pain. Tim had begged Jack to write letters during his time in prison. He doubted he’d even get the chance to, but he’d still try. 

Throughout his life, Jack prided himself on being indestructible. This wouldn’t be his first time in Jail, and Jack had fought and won more fights than he could count. He practically had those at the center by the balls. Elpis didn’t make cowards, after all. Still, deep down that age old knot of anxiety in his gut got tighter. What would happen after he got out? After the five years and he was back in society? He had his short answer. Stay clean, be there for Tim and Wilhelm. Get his job back. 

But what if that plan fell flat, like everything else?

There was a knock at the door. His transport was ready. Jack stopped his pacing and let out a long breath. He’d just have to wait and see. 

 

~~~~~**~~~~~

 

At Triton Flats, Jack immediately knew he messed up. It was freezing there, for one. Empty. Too white and too barren. And those in the yard? The main hub after intake? They just stared at him like he was their next meal. For all he knew, he probably was. It didn’t help any that he was still pretty scrawny and half his face was marred by a big-ass eye patch. By this point, his jaw and the majority of his wound had healed, leaving a deep scar running over the bridge of his nose, hooking around his mouth and down the side of his chin. It wasn’t a pretty sight. 

Within a day, Jack had gone from being a big fish in a little pond to a minnow in an ocean. Jack knew he wouldn’t thrive here, and knew he’d be lucky to survive. 


	10. Prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack struggles, until he claws to the top. 
> 
> Prison- Wage War
> 
> CW: Blood mention/Implied Non-Con

Daily beatings. He’d been spit on. They stared. The staring was the worst part. Jack could feel their eyes boring into the back of his head, burning away the gauze on his face. Those glares hurt more than the fresh bruises on his torso and cuts on his lip. Being the new guy sucked, there were no two ways around it. Sleeping was difficult, too. His roommate was a loud snorer, let alone a violent dumbass. His roommate hated him too, mostly because Jack ignored him and refused to explain what he was in for.

No one knew why Jack was there, and he liked it that way. They’d ask, and he’d just stare at them. Most of the inhabitants in his block believed he was just a mute, the scarring around his mouth and jaw enough to convince them. Jack knew he would survive this. He’d done time before. He could handle this. It was only five years, after all. 

 

~~~~~**~~~~~

 

His silence broke eventually. As did his patience. Six months in, Jack couldn’t take the stares anymore. He couldn’t take the beatings and the spitting. The groping in the bathroom. The touches in his own bunk. He tried to ignore them, spending his time in the yard, in the library, anywhere he could work on himself and try to find peace. But those monsters- those excuses for life surrounding him never gave him a moment’s peace. 

Just before dawn, when the feelings of his bunkmates' disgusting hand started to skate along the exposed skin of Jack’s belly, he lost it. A shank he’d sharpened in secret came hurtling down into Hamhock’s hand, severing a ligament and spurting red over their uniforms. Quickly, Jack turned and pushed his mountainous roommate to the floor of their cell. Six months of physical labor in the yard had done the previously malnourished man wonders, and he couldn’t help but grin as he overpowered his opponent and beat him into submission. 

When Jack got out of solitary a week later, people in his block spoke in hushed tones, wondering what had happened in the room that sent Hamhock, the largest guy in Triton Flats, to the med bay. Their staring changed- it wasn’t out of contempt or judgement but fear and curiosity. Jack could work with that. 

 

“What’d you do?" Jack looked up from his styro food tray and stared with his one working eye at the man standing across from him. No one sat beside Jack during meal time. Ever since the gauze came off people avoided him like the plague, as if they’d somehow grow a scar just like his. Jack didn’t mind. He didn’t want visitors. He didn’t want anyone talking to him. He’d learned the hard way his first go-round that it was stupid to try and make friends in a place like this. Yet still, the stranger persisted. “Hamhock. What’d you do to ‘im?” 

Jack remained silent and turned his attention back to his food. The man standing there, instead of leaving like he should have, sat down. 

“I know you ain’t a mute. You go to talk-counselling like I do. What’d you do to Hamhock?” Jack put down his fork and stared up at this man, his frustration growing. He could feel others staring. He could hear conversations die and Jack let out a low sigh. 

“He won’t be coming back to the block anytime soon, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Jack’s voice was gravely. He was still recovering, and his voice was tired. “You wanna be like him?” The stranger went stiff. “No? Then get lost before you find out exactly what happened to your buddy.” Silently the visitor stood and left. Jack, satisfied with that interaction, went back to eating. People were sure to leave him alone now, he thought. Or rather, he hoped. 

The staring continued, and Jack found himself cornered more often than he’d like; challenged by other members of his block. Challenged by outsiders during rec time. They all wanted a piece of the man that took down Hamhock. At first Jack refused and took the beatings so he wouldn’t extend his time here anymore than necessary. If he kept good behavior, made himself actually  _ work _  during his one-on-ones, he could get out early. He could decrease his sentence. But one day Jack got a letter with no return address. It stunk like expensive perfume and made his head spin with memories. It told him what he hoped were lies, but reading the signature, reading Her name on the bottom of that letter, made Jack feel like there was no point in staying calm anymore. 

Jack was tired of playing nice. He wanted to go ape-shit. 


	11. All the Rowboats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new name is earned, as well as some other stuff. 
> 
> All the Rowboats - Regina Spektor

Jack fought back. He didn’t win every fight, but the more he fought, the more he won. The more his name traveled around the blocks and through the yard. One by one people began to submit. They knew the consequences if they made him upset, so they learned to keep their distance. His table was empty, branded as Jack’s territory. Over time, Jack found that he started to receive gifts. Funds in his commissary and baked foods from the kitchens on his bunk. Cigarettes were tucked into his shirt pocket as he was passed in morning line up, and his wait for a hot shower grew shorter and shorter. Soon, it became common knowledge that Jack went first, even if you’d been waiting since the cell doors opened. 

The thing that Jack liked the most? Out of all the gifts and respect and _fear_ people had for him, people gravitated towards him for protection. If you were with Jack, you were untouchable. Who’d want to fight a man with nothing left to lose? When he’d first had his bandages removed he’d been targeted as a weakling, a freak. Soon that scar became his calling card. There weren’t many that had a scar taking up 80% of their face, and even fewer whose demeanor was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. They took to calling him Handsome Jack, a name that newcomers had quickly learned to either worship or dread. 

A man with one eye and a gnarled face who’d been ridiculed in his first months at Triton Flats soon became its king. 

It was through his reign that Jack felt like he’d finally found himself. His life, shitty and brutish and relatively short, had all led up to this point somehow. Not even his temporary position as a cult leader in college could compare to the power and influence he had within the walls of Triton Flats. He cornered the market in echo chips, dictated who sat where in the cafeteria and in the yards. He’d gained respect from his fellow inmates, even that of the prison guards. People listened to him, he got things done, and when things didn’t go his way, well. Let’s say that Handsome Jack didn’t have much tolerance for mistakes. 

He felt powerful. He felt safe. He felt in control, and it only took a little over a year. Imagine what he could accomplish by the end of his sentence? 

Jack surveyed his kingdom in his usual seat, atop a picnic table overlooking the yard. Usually he’d have a little queue of people waiting to talk to him. They’d make requests for protection, offering echo chips and cigarettes. But today was a pretty quiet one. People milled about and minded their own business. Jack thought over his place at Triton Flats and smiled to himself. Looking to his left a new inmate that had almost become an opponent sat on the picnic bench. Tector was tall, imposing, but a complete idiot. Perfect for molding into the perfect henchman. It just delighted Jack that he could even _have_ a henchman. 

“I’m like the Godfather.” Jack let out a content smile as he counted down the days of his sentence. Only three years and six months more. 

“Didn’t he die?” The slab of meat to his left asked. Jack didn’t even dignify that question with a glare. 

“Shut up, Tector.” 

“Yes, Boss.” Tector nodded and looked down at his lap. Jack smiled, glad for the submission- it was good to be listened to. Jack’s one blue eye returned to look over the star filled sky. He’d never grow tired of that view, of the idea that there was something beyond this hunk of rock they called a moon. One day he’d get out of here. He’d see what other places had to offer. Maybe go to an Eden- or Hera. Some other planet with different laws and different structures. A place where no one knew him or his past. A smile spread over Jack’s face at that idea, and he closed his eyes to imagine a world where he could live in peace and quiet. He could try to find Her again. Try to right what he’d done wrong. 

Jack didn’t get far in his imagining, though, before a loud voice echoed across the yard to catch his attention. 

“Lawrence.” He turned his head to stare across the yard. A correctional officer stood by the main gate that led back into the prison. “You’ve got a letter.” Frowning, Jack stood up and went to the officer. 

“I’ve got mail?” Jack asked with a cheesy smile. “Did’ya read it already or do _I_ get the honor of breaking the seal this time?” 

“You know the regulations, Lawrence.” The officer handed over an opened envelope. “It’s from the Concordia Judge.” As Jack read, his eyes widened and mouth went dry. Did this say what he thought it did? Or did his other eye die on him too? 

“We’ve arranged a transport this afternoon. You’ll go from Triton Flats back to the Concordia jailhouse and await release there.” 

Release. He was being let out, let out a whole four and a half years early. Jack looked up at the officer, confusion evident on his face despite his smile. 

“It says I’m being let out on good behavior,” Jack held up the wad of paper, and the officer gave his own small smile. 

“And overcrowding. Come with me. We’ll get you a box to pack up your cell and get you ready for transport.” Grinning from ear to ear, Jack turned back to look at Tector and the other fools on the yard. He gave them a mock military salute, squaring his shoulders and kicking out his foot. 

“Catch you on the flip-side, assholes!” He called out, before following the officer to freedom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary; 
> 
> Echo chips: One-Time use chips for Triton Flat's communal echo-comms.


	12. Big Houses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A homecoming Jack hadn't been expecting 
> 
> Big houses- Squalloscope

“You moved.” Those were Jack’s first words when he stepped out of the car.

“Yes.” Wilhelm nodded, grabbing Jack’s single duffel bag while Tim went forward to unlock the front door to the apartment complex before them. 

“Why didn’t we go back to my place? The house didn’t get torn down or anything, did it?” Jack joked, smiling between Wilhelm and Tim on the elevator ride up. 

“A… About that-” Tim swallowed hard while Wilhelm held the other’s shoulder for support. They had been warned both by the rehab center and prison of Jack’s temper and volatile mood swings. Tim was weary of how his twin would respond to the not-so-good news. Opening the door to a small, two bedroom apartment, Tim welcomed Jack and Wilhelm inside. “You live, um, you live here now.” Jack’s smile dropped. It was small. Cramped. He swallowed hard and tried to bring back that same joking smile. Surely Tim was just messing with him. 

“You mean, like, I live here until my house keys get returned?” Confusion and anxiety started to claw through Jack’s stomach. Tim struggled to find words. He couldn’t just drop the news on Jack, it would send him into a panic, surely! But Wilhelm spoke up before Tim could even open his mouth. 

“State ordered.” Wil was never one to dance around the subject, and he wasn’t about to now. “You’re no longer allowed to live by yourself, drive or own a motorized vehicle, or blow above a .05 on a breathalyzer.” 

“Wait-” Jack reached his hand out to stop Wilhelm. “My house? All my stuff-” 

“It’s been repossessed by the bank due to your absence and missed payments. Your material things are in your closet. Nisha came while you were in prison to take the remainder of what was hers in the house.” For a moment, Jack stared at the taller man just trying to process what Wilhelm just said. When it finally registered, Jack felt like he was going to burst.

“You let Nisha in my house? After everything she did? You might as well have tossed everything in a pile and burned it!”

“Don’t worry, Jack. We were there and made sure she didn’t steal anything of yours.” Tim piped up, reading the distress on his brother’s face. Wilhelm continued on, plowing past Jack’s rage and Tim's soothing gestures.

“You’re only allowed to leave the region if you have a written letter from a judge and accompanied by a family member.” Jack took a step back and clenched his jaw, head shaking. 

“No, no this is stupid. What the hell do they think they’re trying to pull here-” 

“Jack please.” Tim stepped forward before Wilhelm could continue with anymore legal jargon. “Please don’t be mad. This… This was the only way I could convince the judge to get you out early.” Jack’s imminent tirade stopped at the mention of his early release. Distracted from his anger for the moment, Jack tilted his head to the side. 

“You… You got me out?” His shoulders slacked. “They told me I got out on good behavior and overcrowding.” 

“Being a kingpin in the highest security prison on Elpis isn’t good behavior, Jack.” Wilhelm said flatly. “Tim pulled major strings to get you out.” Jack shifted to stare over at his twin. Tim wouldn’t look at either of them, hugging his middle as if trying to make himself smaller. As if he was trying to hide from Jack. “For once, be grateful.”


	13. Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack get's a glimpse at what life on the outside's like, and he doesn't enjoy it.
> 
> Circles - Acollective

“Do you have your chunk of rent?” Tim called from the kitchen and Jack signed from his seat on the couch. 

“No.” His voice was flat, and he tensed when he heard Timothy curse under his breath. He hated it when Tim cussed. 

“Jack, c’mon… I only have so much- it’s either food or rent this month if I have to pay for everything myself.” Tim sounded tired. Dried out. Jack looked up from his echo-comm briefly to see Tim seated at the kitchen table, pouring himself over papers and bills.

“I don’t have the money, Tim. I’m sorry. Ask Wilhelm or something- he’s still got that office job don’t he?.” 

“I thought you had some interviews last month. Didn’t any of them pull through?” Tim leaned back in his seat. “What about that corner store? The little bodega on fourth-”

“I can’t pass the background check, Tim. No one wants a recovering drug addict with a criminal record and a messed up face working for them.” A frustrated sound left Tim’s throat and he stood up from the kitchen table, crossing into the living room wearing a deep frown. “What? What’re you lookin’t at me like that for? No one will hire me, Tim.” 

“You’ve got a fucking masters degree from Elpis Tech and no one will hire you?” 

“Can you not swear at me?” Jack tensed his shoulders, voice rising in his own defense. “I’m an ex-con who has severe anger issues, can’t be around cars, pharmacies, or minors. Would you want to hire me, Tim?” Listing out his record wasn’t something Jack enjoyed, but it was all he heard when he got his rejection letters and emails. Jack stared at his brother, who stared back with the same level of intensity. There was more to that stare, something unsettling. Tim was under more stress than Jack could ever imagine, but Jack didn’t want to think about that when he had his own shit-show to deal with. Dealing with other people’s messes had never been the scarred man’s forte.   
After several moments, it was Tim who broke away to look down at his feet in submission. 

“I’ll figure something out.” He said softly. “I… I’ll handle it. Just please, Jack. Keep trying to find a job? I can’t keep doing this.” Tim already worked two full time jobs- what more was there he could do? He already hardly slept. Anymore and he’d put himself in the hospital. 

“I’ll try to find something soon, Tim. I promise.”


	14. I'll Be Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some weeds are insidious, and near impossible to root out. 
> 
> I'll Be Good - Jaymes Young

“You don’t know where you found it?” Wilhelm held a small plastic box in his hand, towering over a smaller man who refused to make eye contact. “Jack.” He spoke in a stern voice, trying to get his attention. “Jack.” He repeated, the man still not listening. Wilhelm’s patience was wearing thin, especially with the sound of his lover’s cries echoing in the other room. “John!” He barked, and the scarred man looked up, one blue eye and another dead staring at him. “Where did you get this?” 

“I don’t remember.” His voice was gravelly and tired. Drained. 

“You didn’t know before, and now you don’t remember… So you knew where you got it at one point?” Wilhelm asked, and the shriveled man before him shook his head. “Where did you get the eridium, Jack? You’ve been clean for two months.” He was beyond disappointed. Jack had been clean. He’d made so much progress since coming home again. Wilhelm had thought Jack was finally on the path to recovery. But then he disappeared, showing up three days later with bruises, bleeding hand, and a kit hidden in his jacket pocket. 

Tim had found him in the bathroom, curled up in the tub passed out. The kit seemed unopened, but Jack was good at hiding things. Now, Jack was sitting on the couch with his shoulders hunched and head turned to the floor as Wilhelm interrogated him. Timothy was crying in the bedroom, his cries sending painful shivers down Wilhelm’s back. 

“I’m taking you back.” Wilhelm spoke sternly. 

“No-” Jack’s eyes shot up to Wilhelm. “Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t- Don’t send me back.” Jack pleaded, his head shaking."I'll be good, I promise." His whole body _screamed_ that he needed to fight and run, but he knew he couldn’t stand a chance against Wil. “Don’t.” 

“Then prove to me that you didn’t use, Jack.” Wilhelm crossed his arms. Jack’s fierce body language melted away and he curled inward on himself again. 

“I… I can’t.” 

“You can’t?” Jack shook his head, eyes downcast. “You took a hit.” Jack nodded, hands coming up to cover his face. He laughed through his tears with a broken smile. “You’re still high.” Wilhelm said this mostly to himself as he realized how deep Jack had gone, but the aforementioned man nodded. 

“Yeah… I messed up, didn’t I?” Wilhelm could only nod, sitting beside the broken man. Jack bent his head down, pressing his palms against his eyes. “It… It hurts, Wil.” Jack’s voice cracked. “It hurts so much.” His scars stung. His head ached. The knowledge of what he did made his chest feel as though it had been torn into ribbons. 

“You’re only human, Jack.” Wilhelm sighed and reached over to rest a hand on the other man’s shoulder. There was so much Wilhelm wanted to do to fix this, but he couldn’t. This was a problem bigger than himself, bigger than Tim. Bigger than Jack. “C’mon. Let’s go.” Wilhelm stood from the couch, lifting Jack with him. Wilhelm would dispose of the eridium himself. None of them wanted to take the risk of Jack going back to jail. 

 

The drive was painfully silent. Wilhelm fought to keep every angry word he had inside, his teeth hurt from how tightly he clenched his jaw. At first he’d tried to be understanding, but the farther they got from home the more his rage bubbled up inside of him. How could Jack do this? How could he do this to Tim? It had barely been two months since he came home and now he was back in the viper’s pit. 

Wilhelm walked in with Jack, signed the paperwork, and left. He couldn’t stay for the actual intake. It was too painful to see that all over again. 

“You’re lucky you’re genetically immune,” A nurse stated after she took blood samples. It was just her and Jack in the exam room. “Otherwise you would have gotten the Skull Shivers or Black Rot from all the needles you’ve used over the years.” She offered him a smile, his consolation prize. As if he’d never heard that one before. Jack huffed and ignored her, looking at the counter top across the room. 

Soon, a doctor came in with a clipboard and thick manila folder. He looked over Jack, checking his pulse and eyes and breathing. Fed up with the sticky silence in the room, Jack cleared his rocky throat with a groan. 

“How long am I gonna be here?” He asked. Jack could still feel his hands twitching from the stuff coursing through his veins, and there was a faint buzzing in the back of his head. It would probably last a few more hours before the withdrawal symptoms set in. 

“Given that this will be your third stay with us,” He looked over his history before sighing a little. “And as a frequent flyer with eridium with severe mood swings and violent addiction tendencies, I would say you’re going to be here for about… Six months. Give or take.” 

“Damn it.” 

 

~~~~~**~~~~~

 

“I swear, I’m good.” Jack promised, pleading with his brother. “It’s been six months. I’m… I’m clean now, Tim. I swear it to the Gods.” 

“I can’t trust that.” Tim said softly, shaking his head. “You were ‘clean’ the _last_ time you came home, and the time before _that_ and all the years before _that_.” Tim crossed his arms and tried to turn away from his twin, but Jack reached up and took hold of his shoulders. 

“Tim, please…” He took a deep, shaking breath. Jack couldn’t take the look of pain on Tim’s face, the tears in the corners of his eyes. _He_ did that. He did that toTim . “I swear, I’m clean. I’m not gonna slip up again.” He bit his lower lip in thought for a moment. “I… I’ll see a therapist regularly.” He offered. “I’ll go to Narcotics Anonymous. I’ll… I’ll show you my arms every day and _prove_ that I’m not using.” Tim looked up at his brother with tears slipping over his cheeks. Jack hated seeing Tim cry. 

“And what’s going to stop you from disappearing again? Jack, you’ve done this three times. I can’t do it again.” Tim shook his head, hand going to cover his mouth as he gasped, thumb rubbing away tears. “I can’t.” 

“I swear to you, Tim. I will not use eridium or put myself in a place where I’d use for as long as we both live. I want to be clean. I want to be a better man. I want to be present and I want to be part of your life again… Please, Tim. I’m your brother.” Jack slipped down to his knees before the couch, holding one of Tim’s hands. “I’ll be good.” After what felt like eons, Tim finally spoke.

“Fine.” Tim knew he would regret agreeing to this. Jack wasn’t the type of man to go back on a promise, but this wasn’t the kind of promise that Jack was good at keeping. As much as Tim wanted to reject him, Jack was his brother. His twin. “But every day, you’ll show me your arms. And you’ll go to every therapist appointment and all your NA meetings. I want to see your chips.” Jack grinned, and he lunged forward to hug Tim tightly. 

“I promise.” 

“Good.” Tim hugged his brother jack, tears of relief spilling out. “I fucking missed you so much, Jack…” 

“Language.” Jack tensed, but Tim just laughed. 

“Sorry. I just… I just missed you.” 

“I know.”


	15. I Need A Dollar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New beginnings. 
> 
> I Need A Dollar- Aloe Blacc

Jack stared down at the grocery list in his hands, sighing and rubbing his neck. He wanted to scratch his face, but he couldn’t risk unsettling the cosmetics he’d put in place to hide his scar. Jack was still working on perfecting it, making his face look as… as _human_ as possible. His scar still ruined everything. Tim swore he didn’t need to hide it, but Jack knew what he looked like. He knew what he saw in the mirror every morning and night, and if he could hide it even just a little bit he would. 

Looking up, Jack saw his brother standing a little ways down the aisle, staring at two different boxes of pasta, trying to decide which one gave the most noodles for the best price. It was a Saturday, and all Jack wanted to do was go home, curl up in bed, and go back to sleep. All day he’d felt a familiar numbness growing inside his chest, getting bigger bit by bit since it appeared the night before. He was getting the urge to use again- that itch still buzzing under his skin. Jack absently scratched his arm before he snapped out of it. Looking at Tim, Jack knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t go back to those old patterns. He needed to get to another meeting, schedule another appointment with Dr. West or something. He couldn’t go back for a fourth stint in rehab, he couldn’t risk hurting his brother again. 

“... a good idea?” Jack blinked, refocusing. Had Tim just been talking? 

“What?” he asked, eyebrows raised. 

“I said, do you think it’s a good idea?” Jack gripped the handles of the cart and pushed closer to his brother, confusion clear on his face. 

“What’s a good idea?” Tim sighed and let his hands fall to the side, still clutching the pasta boxes. 

“Pandora University,” he said, shrugging. “They offered me a job- wait, were you seriously checked out again?” 

“Step off, Tim. It happens.” Jack sighed and reached up to scratch at his hairline. Dissociation sucked, and it always hit him at the moments when he needed to pay attention. _Stupid brain_. “Isn’t Pandora U… on Pandora?” 

“Yeah.” Tim nodded. 

“Why would you go to that nacho-flavored planet when Elpis Tech is right next door?” He smiled. “I mean, that’s where we went to school- where I got my masters _and_ PhD.” 

“Because Elpis tech would never hire me after all the shit I did to get your record wiped.” Jack frowned, mostly at Tim’s choice of language, but also because of its guilt inducing meaning. “I think moving to Pandora would be good for us. It’d be a change, and it has that lake we always went to as kids.” Tim smiled. 

“No.” Jack shook his head. He never wanted to step foot on that forsaken planet again. 

“Jack.” Tim whined. “Please, at least think about it? I know you don’t like change,” He swallowed hard. “But this job could be really good for me. I’d finally be teaching English.” Jack shook his head and held up the list. 

“We need apples.” He read out, trying to ignore his brother and move the cart towards the fruit section. He didn’t want to talk about this- didn’t want to think about it. Moving planets meant more to Jack than just getting a new address, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that kind of a change. Pandora was home to too many memories, some of which he wanted to just push away for good, not relive.

“Come with me.” Tim grabbed the edge of the cart, stopping Jack in his tracks. 

“I don’t have a choice in that matter. If you go to Pandora, I have to go too, remember?” Jack frowned, thinking back to the court order. It may be a new planet, but starting over wouldn’t be easy for him. 

“I mean to the university, Jack.” Tim sighed. “Come with me. You could teach. You’ve already got your doctorate.” Jack stared at his brother before he burst into laughter, a loud and brash sound echoing throughout the grocery store. Just the thought of teaching, teaching of _all_ things, had him in stitches. Surely Tim was joking. 

“You seriously think I should go into _teaching_? After everything that’s happened I wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a school.” A woman at the end of the aisle froze, knuckles white as she stared at Jack. In her cart, a toddler sat in the little seat. Her small gasp alerted Jack, and he realized what the woman must have heard. _Friggin Idiot_. He signed in annoyance. “I’m a drug addict lady, not some pervert. Your spawn is safe.” With an insulted huff, she turned and went into a different aisle. 

“Jack, they wouldn’t know what you’ve done.” Tim smiled, bringing Jack’s attention back to their previous discussion. “You’d start with a clean slate- take a few courses and get your license.” 

“I hated school, Tim. Why would I want to teach at one?” 

“You hate idiots more than school. Wouldn’t it be nice to take a few idiots out of the equation by education them?” Tim smiled, making Jack sigh in irritation. He was quickly growing tired of this errand. 

“Are we seriously having this conversation in a grocery store?” Jack didn’t want to have it. Not now, not ever. 

“Don’t avoid this, Jack. You could be great. Come on.” 

“No.” Jack shook his head and made a move to turn the cart around. “We need apples.” He said again with more determination. Tim groaned aloud and looked up at the ceiling before following Jack down the aisle. 

“Just promise me you’ll think about it?” 

“Fine.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! That’s it for this fic. Rest assured that there will be another installment in this Series. First Hit is only one part of Jack’s story; it’s not the beginning, however, and it’s most certainly not the end. :) Stay tuned folks. <3 thanks for your Kudos and comments! They’re always appreciated.


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